by Naomi Niles
Mark turned and looked at us then, but Maizie was kicking the stall behind her and Katie’s attention turned to the shrieking horse. I saw a look of horror pass her face and looked to find what she was seeing. I could see Daddy’s boot extending from within Maizie’s stall, and it was not moving. Katie screamed softly and pointed and Mark flew past her to the stall.
He bent and we could not hear what he was saying above the wind, but his tone was comforting and sad. Mark kneeled and was leaning forward.
“Daddy!” Katie cried. She tried to stand, but the pain in her ankle must have said otherwise and the best she could do was to drag herself with her arms closer to the stall. I went to help her and what we saw there would forever remain imprinted in my memory.
Daddy was unquestionably dead, his head distorted and red with blood. Katie screamed as she recognized that Daddy had obviously been the victim of Maizie’s frightened hooves, the stall small and confining.
Mark looked about and spotted an old, threadbare quilt lying over a sawhorse. He retrieved it and placed it over Jacob’s still body and then, placing his hands beneath Jacob, managed to drag him out of reach of Maizie’s crazed hoofs.
Katie had begun to cry and I wrapped myself around her. Mark, realizing that Jacob was beyond his help, moved to Katie, putting his arm over her sobbing shoulder to comfort her as well. It obviously hurt him to see her suffering and he seemed to feel helpless but respectful of the power of his God in that moment. His head tilted upward as he mouthed what I imagined was a prayer for Jacob. I knew I was witnessing a pure love and a testimony to a faith I’d never experienced.
They stayed like that, Mark crouched and comforting Katie as the storm threw anything it could lift against the barn walls at us. Mark said that the barn would hold, its structure strongly built by the Amish craftsmen using the knowledge that had been handed down through the generations. He explained to me that in the local community were carpenters and it was at this moment that I felt gratitude for their knowledge.
When the fury finally abated, Mark patted Katie’s shoulder one last time and then stood with apparent resolve to begin the journey of recovery. He lifted the locking board, but when he pushed against the barn doors, they would not budge. He muttered aloud that something must be blocking them from the outside.
Using the locking board as a battering ram, he tried to break through, without success. Returning to Katie’s weeping body, he said, “Katie, the door, it is blocked from the outside. I will go up into the loft and see if I can get out through the hay window. Stay here and try not to cry. I will find us help.” He only delivered me a brief look.
As I watched, Mark ascended the wooden ladder leading to the hayloft and climbed over the heat-steamed bales until he reached the window at the far wall. He pushed against it and it turned out this was actually doors as well. They swung open and I left Katie long enough to carefully scale the ladder and join him.
All about us was utter destruction, save for the house; it stood tall and proud against the landscape of flattened fields of corn. The kitchen garden looked as if trounced by a herd of animals, tomatoes hurled against the house, which now looked as if it, too, were bleeding. Trees were uprooted and lay over the yard and across the road. His buggy had blown over and lay against the barn doors, which accounted for the resistance he had found in opening them. His horse was nowhere to be seen and he began praying aloud that the animal had managed to pull loose and find shelter.
I leaned forward and watched as Mark leapt forward from the window, grabbing the rope that was suspended from the overhead pulley, and slid to the ground. He stood for a long moment, assessing his situation and considering what he could do. I reasoned that the buggy was too heavy for him to right alone, and he began to whistle for his horse. To our immense relief, the animal appeared shortly, looking ragged, but unhurt. The harness still in place, the reins loose at its side.
At least the leather reins appeared strong. Working feverishly, Mark rigged a sort of cable with them, fastening them to the chassis of the buggy and finally managing to right it. Once done, he moved his horse into position and connected the harness once again, this time pulling the buggy away from the barn doors.
He could now easily open the doors and I went back down the ladder and joined Katie. He picked her up and carefully carried her into the house as I followed, laying her upon the bed in Jacob’s lower floor bedroom.
“Stay here and do not move, Katie. I will go for help. Sleep if you can; it will help the pain,” he urged and quickly went outdoors. He looked to me and I silently nodded, understanding his plea. There would be no way to navigate a roadway likely blocked with fallen trees unless he rode the horse, so he set about this immediately.
Katie crossed her arms upon her chest and softly sang hymns to keep herself calm. Although I had only just arrived, I tried to comfort her and urged her not to think about her beloved Daddy, whose body, I knew, at that moment lay in the barn beneath an old quilt.
Now her grandfather was gone and Katie was alone. With her God’s help, I would look after her.
Chapter 31
Everywhere you looked, there was devastation and there was no shortage of people who came to stare. English loved to drive through the community to gather tidbits out of curiosity and share them with their friends over coffee. That day, more so than normally, they were completely and utterly in the way.
Katie lay patiently, waiting for Mark to return, and tried very hard not to think about Daddy. The afternoon had turned to evening and there was a steady, soft rain tapping for our attention at the windows. She told me she thought about the livestock to feed, the cows to be milked, and most of all, Daddy’s body lying alone in the dark barn. Although she was visibly trying very hard not to, she could not help but have tears coating her cheeks. I could tell she was coming to terms with the idea that she was all alone.
Katie was worried and to pass the time until help arrived, told me about the children she taught in a two-room schoolhouse not terribly far from Daddy’s farm. There were about thirty students spread among the eight grades, and except for an occasional helping hand from some of the older students, she was responsible for them all. I voiced my amazement at that workload and she said quietly, “The elders do not place a high value on the English type of education. I do the best I can because I’m the only one to help the students.” She went on to explain that she knew God had a plan for each and every one of them, but she hoped He would not need anyone other than Daddy from their community. Daddy, it seemed, had led a solid, representational life and would be granted all that God would have waiting for him.
There was a commotion outdoors from somewhere in the dark and we heard Mark’s voice. He was quietly, but firmly, giving instructions to others to put Daddy’s body into one of the carriages so that it could be transported to the funeral home for embalming. We could hear the voices of men in response and soon there was a knock at her door, and then it opened.
“Katie?” called a woman’s voice. The figure came into the room bearing a lighted lamp that she set upon a table. Katie saw her and explained that it was Mark’s sister, Anna, and behind Anna was Frau Miller, her mother. Katie quickly introduced us. The women made clucking noises with their tongues and muttered a few blessings as they saw Katie’s condition and my torn and filthy state. Frau Miller held a basket over her arm; she set it down at the foot of Katie’s bed and began pulling out supplies she had brought with her.
“Anna, bring the light closer and light the lamps,” she said in an authoritative voice. I learned later that she was the wife of an elder and accustomed to getting her way: a highly respected member of the community.
Anna did as she was told and I could see the glow as lamps that sat throughout the sparsely furnished downstairs rooms were lighted. Frau Miller quietly and efficiently examined Katie’s ankle and pronounced it not broken. “It will take some time for the healing,” she said in the voice that I knew was never questioned. Katie nodded and c
losed her eyes in a tearful acceptance.
Frau Miller left the room to draw water into a pan and returned to bathe Katie’s foot, as well as the rest of her. She ordered me to bathe as well, which I did quickly from the same pan of water. She then left and soon returned with a black dress for Katie. Once Katie was dressed, she drew the quilts up to Katie’s chin for modesty and nodded to Anna, who went to the kitchen door and told Mark and the others they could come in then.
Frau Miller adjourned to the kitchen and could be heard preparing a meal; the clatter of dishes and pots giving an almost surreal, comforting sound when set against the devastation that languished outside. Katie and I could hear the saws in the distance as the men worked remove the trees that blocked the road. They would need to work quickly to get Jacob’s body to a mortician and possibly there were others who would need to be transported to the tiny hospital in Bremen.
Katie tried to sit up, unaccustomed to lying idly while another woman worked in her kitchen. The ankle had swollen, however, and a moan escaped her as she tried to put weight on it. This brought Frau Miller from the kitchen with a highly disapproving look and a wag of her finger. She ordered me in an authoritative voice to keep Katie still. I nodded and Katie lay back down against the crisp, white pillows, feeling awkward all the same. We would need to find some other way to do our part.
Mark came into the house then, removing his hat and knocking gently on the doorway where Katie lay. “How are you?” he asked, although it was obvious from the fact that she was still lying down and Frau Miller had not ordered her to the hospital with the others to have any fracture set.
“I will be fine tomorrow,” Katie answered with a small smile. “Thank you for helping us,” she said.
“I think I have something that will help,” Mark commented, turning to leave. He came back moments later bearing a pair of hand-carved, pine crutches he must have brought with him. “Here, these are for you to use. Sarah Yoder used them last and she is about your height, so they should work well. For now, you stay in the bed as Mama ordered. You know it does no good to argue with her,” he completed his observation, to which Katie smiled and looked down, apparently embarrassed to be seen lying in the bed.
Mark nodded and assured us that all was well. “When Jacob is ready, we will bring him home to you for the viewing. The men will come tomorrow and build the table for him; Mama has said that Anna will stay here with you to help,” he announced, and thus it seemed it would be, whether Katie thought it necessary or not. I started to object and say that I would help, but realized I knew nothing about this lifestyle and was therefore useless to them. “You sleep now,” he ordered Katie and she nodded and closed her eyelids to the scent of brewing coffee and the sound of the big knife cutting on the wooden cutting board. I closed my eyes and in exhaustion, drifted to sleep right there in my chair.
The sun had already begun its ascent when Katie awakened and started at the unexpected surrounding. I had already awakened minutes before and was watching her. She seemed unused to being in Daddy’s room, as well as still being in bed in the daylight. Her awareness returned and I saw the pain cross her features. We heard someone stirring in the kitchen and the smell of frying bacon filled our senses. “Anna?” Katie called out. I touched her arm to remind her I was in the room.
“Jah,” Anna said, peeking around the doorway. “Mama said it was good that you should sleep in this morning. You will need your strength,” she added.
Katie lay there for a bit, and I noted that someone had set a porcelain pot for our use. She sat up, apparently to take advantage of it. She reached for the crutches and tried a bit of weight on the ankle. It looked like it hurt terribly, still swollen, so I grabbed the pot and managed to hold it and help her use it off the edge of the bed.
Anna brought us each a plate of bacon with a fried egg and a thick slice of white, homemade bread spread with freshly churned butter. Katie mentioned that she was glad she had just baked and provisioned the kitchen the morning of the storm; all as God had planned, undoubtedly.
Anna handed us mugs of steaming coffee and held one herself, chatting softly in the dim light that was filling the room. This was the quiet part of the day that I would later learn I liked best: just after the roosters had crowed and someone would come from the barn, having milked the cows.
“The cows!” Katie said suddenly, sitting up straight.
“Now, now, Katie. You leave the animals to the men for now. They will decide what is to be done. It is your job to stay off that ankle and sing your prayers that you are alive and your house still stands,” Anna pointed out and Katie nodded. “The others were not so lucky,” Anna added.
“Oh?” Katie’s voice held concern.
“No, no one else went to God, but the Yoders lost their barn and part of their roof. They had taken cover in the root cellar, so were not hurt,” she added. “But, Katie…” Anna’s voice hesitated. “…the school is gone. Flat. Nothing more than a pile of wood now.”
This was such a different world. The city seldom saw a tornado, and I’d always reasoned that it was due to the tall buildings. We were not strangers to disaster, 9/11 being the primary one, but for these people, one storm could disrupt their entire lives. I felt for Katie and Anna both, but there was nothing I could say.
“The children,” were Katie’s first words of regret.
“No, it is meant to be,” Anna pronounced, sounding very much like her mother at that moment. “The men are discussing to have the school rebuilt and we will be patient. The harvest, or what is left of it, is upon us and the children are needed at home. Plenty of time to learn once the snow flies,” she added, patting the covers smooth around Katie’s legs. In this world, everything must have order and I suspected this was especially true in Frau Miller’s house.
A man whistling could then be heard from outside and the door opened with a knock as Mark appeared. “Anna? Katie? Gwyne?” he called. Someone must have told him my name.
Anna rose to greet him, handing him a cup of coffee as he removed his hat. “How is our little one, today?” he asked cheerily from the bedroom doorway.
“I am much better,” Katie burst out, suddenly aware of the porcelain pot next to the bed. Mark’s eyes followed hers and he laughed outright.
“Anna, our little one needs your help,” he said in a conspiratorial tone and left to give us privacy. I waved Anna away and said I would see to it. I’d spied an outhouse in the back and needed to use it myself. It seemed as if the nausea came more often now. I was lucky to make it that far before I lost the contents of my stomach.
Shortly after my return, Katie and I could hear the sound of lumber being carried into the main room where it was assembled into a coffin table in the corner of the room. We heard Anna ask a couple of quiet questions and he responded in his normal, booming voice to say that Daddy would be brought home later this afternoon and the viewing would begin that night. “There is much to be done,” Mark said in a matter-of-fact tone. “We must be practical,” he added and Anna’s lack of response indicated she agreed. Mark asked a question in a low voice and soon Anna entered the bedroom where Katie lay and went through Jacob’s things long enough to find his Sunday suit, tie, and shoes, taking them out with her.
We could hear people outside, chattering amongst themselves, and knew they were clearing the yard and tending to the livestock. “I am never truly alone,” Katie told me.
Mark appeared in the doorway again. “So, now I am gone,” he announced. “You are to do as you are told, my stubborn little one,” he said with a gentle smile. “Your work will begin soon enough,” he added and tipped her a tiny salute as he put on his hat and then was gone. He had paid very little attention to me as I was an English.
Chapter 32
Jacob Troyer received the respect paid by his community while lying in the living area of the house he had built. His granddaughter, Katie, stood nearby and quietly acknowledged the passing by of each member of her community with eyes downturned. We
felt their respect and it strengthened my sense of belonging.
Mark Miller stood behind Katie. In the event that standing became too much, he would be there to help her. She did not seem displeased with the attention he was showing her, but with Daddy’s passing, the proprieties were even more important than ever before.
Later, there emerged from the house, the simple, pine casket borne upon the shoulders of six men to an open wagon. The community formed a long procession of black wagons and he was taken to a small cemetery buried deeply within cornfields, the only remarkable feature being a grove of oak trees that shaded the disintegrating, wooden headstones. From the earth…back to the earth.
At the conclusion, everyone went back to the church and the tables were laden with food. People chatted and, as was their way, it obviously was also a time of socializing. I realized that death, here, was essentially a part of life. It was a view shared by many people who live in farming communities and experience life and death as an ongoing cycle. I was fascinated by this acceptance of life and was learning strong values that I would call upon myself in later years.
There was some singing and Katie, while in her grieving black, looked thin and quite alone,. She was, nonetheless, the center of much attention as it was being discussed how the community would handle her situation. It was known that Jacob had left the farm to her and while it was in some disarray after the storm, there was still livestock to be seen to and fields to harvest. She could not do this. As a woman, her skills lay in the house and kitchen garden, as well as in the classroom.
When the time came to leave, Mark nodded at us to come to his buggy and he lifted her inside, as he did Anna and I. He drove us back to the farm and saw us inside.